


The Things That Truly Hurt

by maxschleep



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Mental Health Issues, Other, later rather than sooner, lots of depressing themes, things do get better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:01:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25615528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxschleep/pseuds/maxschleep
Summary: Max Caulfield has finally been able to somewhat understand and control her powers. Now, she knows what she has to do: keep Chloe and Rachel happy. But in order to fix everything you need to be willing to sacrifice anything, right?-----Eventual Amberpricefield set in a post-Before the Storm world.
Relationships: Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Chloe Price, Rachel Amber/Chloe Price, Rachel Amber/Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Chloe Price
Comments: 55
Kudos: 157





	1. Master of Time

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [all the shapes I know (are gone)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13210476) by [fairymascot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairymascot/pseuds/fairymascot), [fortheloveofpizza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortheloveofpizza/pseuds/fortheloveofpizza). 
  * Inspired by [Kaukasos](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13620687) by [TheOV](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOV/pseuds/TheOV). 
  * Inspired by [Old in Visions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12669102) by [besiderunningwaters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/besiderunningwaters/pseuds/besiderunningwaters). 



**6:44 PM**

She could almost find peace in this moment. Birds had stopped chirping hours ago, squirrels refused to continue scampering in front of her, the park had become devoid of people, and the sky had become a serene shade of orange. The bench she sat on was just comfortable enough for her to relax, yet just uncomfortable enough to prevent her from falling asleep. It was as close to peace that she’d gotten in a year.

Max’s eyes stared down the blazing sun as it creeped beneath the horizon, shading the park in deep red and forcing the tall redwood trees that dotted the landscape to cast long, black shadows across the green grass beneath them. It was almost ironic how crucial her actions, or rather lack of actions, were at this point. Every step she took and every sentence she spoke could mean the difference between keeping reality somewhat normal or completely unraveling the fabric of time. And here she was, sitting on an old, wooden bench in an empty park just basking in the amber glow of the sunlight.

But Max knew her own existence here, at this moment, meant that she could actually fix everything that she had fucked up fixing time and time again. Her ability to sit here and watch the sun set slowly over an oh-so familiar Arcadia Bay three years before she was really meant to return meant that she might finally be able to give the one person she truly loves peace. Even if it meant she wouldn’t be able to see that person live on with her.

 _“You’re on a timer, you know that?”_ The blurred image of herself that sat next to her said.

Max didn’t respond. Her past self didn’t try to press on like she usually did, instead resigning to silence. They both knew, no matter how bad they didn’t want it to be this way, that it had to happen like this.

* * *

**Months ago...**

It took her a while to get the hang of rewinding. And when she did, she barely felt any different. Which, considering three months ago her rewinding any further than a minute caused her entire body to keel over and her brain to burst in pain, was a welcome change. 

All Max could do for the next week was experiment with how far she could go. She made it past an hour, that was the first milestone. Then two. Then four. Then twelve. Each time she tried to rewind, she inched further and further towards a realm of infinite possibilities. It was really exciting, but also terrifying. _How far can I go back before my head explodes, my heart stops, or my lungs burst?_ It was always a risk. Every time she held up her hand and watched as broken bottles rebuilt themselves and cars flew backwards at high speeds was a dance with death. But she _had_ to take it. For Chloe’s sake.

After rewinding time came freezing time, which was an entirely different beast. She didn’t even know where to begin, or even _how_ to begin. At first she thought it was tied to trauma: the only time she was really able to freeze time was when Kate had jumped off of the roof of the girls dorms. So, her only idea was to try and remember the most traumatic things she had experienced.

Memories flashed before her eyes. Kate, lifeless and dead after Max couldn’t find the right words to save her. Mark Jefferson snapping his pictures as Max lay still on the cold concrete floor of an underground bunker. Every bit of trauma she had experienced during that week, yet nothing could move her.

It wasn’t until she thought of her knowingly listening to Chloe’s panicked screams in the Blackwell bathroom as she was killed that something sparked.

The one memory too tough to bear, too heartbreaking to remember again came to her mind, and as tears streamed down her face she could feel a surge of her power. Her hands cramped, her mind focused on the shrieks of pain Chloe made as the gunshot echoed within the girls bathroom, and the world around her stood still.

At first she felt relieved. She laughed, almost jumping with joy as she walked around her backyard, birds and rain frozen in the air. But the more she moved, the more she felt wrong. Something within her felt twisted, almost destroyed. Soon each step felt like she was fighting a battle she couldn’t win. She collapsed onto the ground, her eyes feeling as if they had just been sprayed with tear gas and her entire body feeling like it was collapsing in on itself.

And then, nothing. Darkness. She awoke an hour later, face first in the wet grass of her backyard, rain pattering on her jacket, feeling like she was just hit by a truck.

* * *

**7:24 PM**

_“I hate you, you know.”_ The blurred Max stood to her feet and in front of the bench as she looked down on her. _“We all do. Every one of us you trapped in this fucking brain of yours hates you in one way or the other.”_

Max simply nodded. “You’ve told me that a lot.”

Her blurred self scoffed before crossing her arms, staring down at Max’s face. _“At least you know this is how it has to be. At least you’ve fucking grown enough to realize what you did to all of us. All of you.”_

“This supposed to be a pep talk? You’re getting your wish soon enough. Just… let me have this, okay?”

 _“Let you have this. Let you… have this. After you left me in that bathroom to cry while my best fucking friend bled out. Let you have a moment to yourself after all the shit you did to us.”_ The blurred Max paused, then sighed. _“It’s times like these where I want to fucking punch you. Hard. And if I still had a body to do that with, I would.”_

Max couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. The thought of herself being beaten to a pulp by her past self was, at the very least, deserved. “How long until it happens and you finally have the power to beat the shit out of me? I bet you’re just counting down the days, right?”

The blurred Max didn’t answer, instead simply staring back down at Max. Then, she was gone. Her body faded into the sky, and Max was left alone on the park bench.

* * *

**8:12 PM**

_Chloe,_

_By the time you read this you’ll have already figured out what happened. I’m sorry for everything I did wrong. Every night I thought of how fucking horrible of a person I was for never trying to reach out. I always had nightmares about how much you hate me, and how much I deserved you hating me. I can’t bear the thought of you being alone because of me anymore. I hope that, at the very least, you’re happy. I don’t ever want you to live in a world where you feel like you’re trapped and alone._

_Please don’t look for me, Chloe. All I’ll do is make things worse for you, I have ever since I left. You don’t deserve to drag me along in your life when you already have someone who cares about you. Please just live your life. Go wherever your heart takes you, stay happy. That’s the least that you deserve._

_I love you Chloe._

_Max_

Max lifted her pencil off of the paper and looked down at it. Slowly, tears dripped from her face onto her writing, blurring the crisp blue lines each sentence sat on to a drowned grey. The realization she would probably never see her again had been in the back of her mind for weeks, ever since she jumped through the photo. But it was a risk that she had to - wanted to - take. Chloe couldn’t stay alone anymore. The idea of her in pain wasn’t worth considering if there was another option.

As she folded the letter and shoved it into her jacket, she noticed a glow within the park. A fire, with a large smoke column bellowing out of it in the distance. And as that column went up, as the sound of burning trees filled her ears, she smiled. It wasn’t a smile of joy or happiness. It was a smile of content. Knowing that Chloe had connected with Rachel made her think this plan wasn’t so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! This is my first fic for Life is Strange (my first fic in general, to be honest), and I've wanted to write this specific story for a long time, ever since I beat the game in the first place a few months ago. If I mess up or don't do a good enough job at writing, many many many many many apologies to all.
> 
> This fic is really an amalgamation of a lot of ideas from other authors on this site, but with my own spins and twists to it. Specific shout-outs to the fics that inspired me are "all the shapes I know (are gone)" by fairymascot+fortheloveofpizza, "Kaukasos" by TheOV, and "Old in Visions" by besiderunningwaters (seriously all of these fics are incredible, please read them if you haven't they're definitely worth it).
> 
> That being said, the main thing I wanted to mention here is how I wanted to write this first chapter specifically. I reeaaaaally don't wanna give too much away, but the chapter really isn't meant to showcase Max's past in its entirety. It was mainly meant to set up Max's mental state, and her current state of melancholic content. That's also the main reason why it's so short. I promise chapters are going to be a lot longer than a thousand or so words, don't worry!
> 
> Also, since this is something I want to stick with long term, I would really appreciate feedback. If I'm doing something wrong, please tell me! I want this little project to actually be something I, along with everyone else here, enjoy!
> 
> With everything being said, the next chapter probably won't come out for a week or so, depending on how busy I am with other things in my life, and depending on if you all want to see more. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Check out my tumblr here for updates and chapter excerpts as well as random stuff I enjoy talking about. https://youwritegoodcursive.tumblr.com/


	2. Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after Rachel's eighteenth birthday takes an unexpected turn.

Her eyes fluttered open as the sun began to creep over the ocean in front of them. Her feet, propped up on the dashboard of the truck, hid most of the harsh orange rays, but it didn’t keep her from waking up. And when she was woken up from her blissful sleep, she couldn’t help but let out an almost inaudible groan. Then another louder one as soon as she started feeling the hangover from last night.

Still, Chloe couldn’t complain much. Waking up in her truck hungover wasn’t the most appealing thing in the world, but Rachel Amber being asleep on her shoulder made it a lot more tolerable. The two definitely knew how to celebrate birthdays, especially the ones that marked the end of their teenage years and the beginning of adulthood.

Chloe yawned into a closed fist as she shifted around in her seat. As she moved her legs from the dashboard to the floorboard, Rachel began to stir beside her. “Shit, didn’t mean to wake you up,” Chloe said with a rough, deep morning voice, “you got a killer headache too?”

Rachel lifted herself off of Chloe’s body, shaking her head and looking her in the eyes. “I didn’t drink six bottles of beer last night, remember?” She smiled, stretching her shoulders and arms as she yawned.

“Well, who else was gonna drink them?” Chloe let loose a smirk and turned to the rising sun, watching it shine and reflect over the water in front of her. “Some view, huh…”

“Yeah. Some view.” Rachel scooted closer to Chloe, leaning her head onto her shoulder and watching the sun slowly rise above the horizon. “Thanks. You know, for the party and everything.”

Chloe let out a laugh and smiled. “You thought you would just stay in your room for your birthday? Nah, the Punk Queen of Hicksville, Oregon has like a thousand party ideas up her sleeves.” Rachel let out a small giggle. “Trust me, I wasn’t planning on just letting you go ‘Oh, I’m eighteen now, huh?’ and have a boring ass night. You deserved some fun for once in a while.”

“Well, trust me I had a lot of fun. Especially with that surprise lighthouse trip.”

“Oh, that was totally planned, believe me. I was like a cool ass detective trying to come up with an awesome as fuck late night hangout. You wouldn’t believe the other spots I had in mind.” Chloe looked over to Rachel with a grin, who in turn looked back at her.

“And where might one of those special spots be?”

“That’d spoil the ‘special’ part, Rach.”

“Uh-huh.”

* * *

The engine of the truck sputtered as Chloe drove her and Rachel to the Two Whales. The asphalt beneath the tires was riddled with divots and potholes that had accumulated over time, and every now and again the truck would jerk to the left or the right as a tire hit those holes with speed. 

When she found it, the truck looked like it had been hit with a nuke. Rust was sprinkled all around the peeling beige paint and the engine was covered in dust so thick that she could make a sweater. But, it still worked. It definitely wasn’t good for the environment and leaked more gas than she would have liked, but it worked. And the fact _she_ made it work made her all the more proud that it did.

Of course, she knew she had to do a whole lot more fixing it up sooner or later. And for that, she’d need a few hundred dollars, an extra set of hands, and more car manuals than she could count. But for now, she was content with using it to bring her and Rachel up and down the mean streets of Arcadia Bay. And it seemed like Rachel appreciated it in the same way. She’d personify the truck, pat the dashboard when it got somewhere without forcing Chloe to restart the engine, and she even once tried offering to help Chloe with repainting it, but that never went anywhere.

The diesel guzzling pickup ground to a halt as it entered the Two Whales parking lot. As Chloe turned the engine off, Rachel slid out of her seat and hopped onto the ground, shutting the door with a thud. Chloe watched as Rachel waited idly by for her, checking her phone as Chloe stepped out of her seat and shut her door.

“So,” Chloe began, “whatcha looking at?”

Rachel looked up from her phone for a moment, bearing that iconic grin of hers. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yeah, I kinda would.”

“Well… here, look for yourself.” Rachel held her phone out for Chloe.

Of all the things Chloe had expected Rachel to be looking at, she had apartments in L.A. at the bottom of the list. And for good reasons, mainly because of the fact that they weren’t really the most affluent of individuals in Arcadia Bay, or L.A. for that matter. But, sometimes expectations get subverted hard. “Aren’t places in L.A. expensive as shit?”

Rachel rolled her eyes playfully. “ _Everywhere’s_ expensive as shit when you don’t have money, Chloe. Besides, L.A.’s just an idea. We can literally go anywhere. And I mean _anywhere_.”

“But like… where would we go first?”

“I literally just said wherever the hell we want.” Rachel paused, then walked up to Chloe, taking her free hand with both of her own and speaking in an almost whispered tone. “You remember what we said after the play right? That we’d go on the longest fucking road trip of all time? You’re still up for that, right?”

“Fuck yeah, I am.” Chloe immediately responded, looking Rachel in her eyes.

“Then that’s all you gotta say. We’ll figure out everything else when we get to it.” Rachel smiled, then pecked Chloe’s lips before backing away. “Now, let’s get some bacon and waffles. I’m hella hungry.”

Chloe stood there for a moment as she watched Rachel make her way to the door of the diner, her mind trying to process what the two had decided on. _Leaving Arcadia Bay with the coolest girlfriend in the fucking world and never looking back. That’s what my life’s come to._ She couldn’t help but smile as she followed her into the diner.

* * *

Chloe dug into her stack of pancakes as Rachel ate up her little slices of bacon. A coffee pot sat on the table, piping hot and waiting for one of the two to pick it up and refill their little unbranded mugs. And, to top off the wholesome mood of the morning, the sun had decided to lay just the perfect amount of light onto Rachel’s face, giving her an almost mythical and ethereal look. _Goddamn, how the fuck am I this lucky?_

“You gonna finish eating?” Rachel asked, pointing over to Chloe’s pancakes with her fork. “Or do you just wanna keep staring?”

“Why not both?”

Rachel smiled and let out a soft laugh. “Nice one.”

“I do my best.” Chloe smiled back, then continued to eat little triangles of pancakes from her plate. “So, what does the incredible Rachel Amber wanna do today?”

“My, what an excellent query. Oh, how I yearned for you to ask me about the plans I had made for today.” Rachel lifted a hand over her heart in dramatic fashion.

“Dork. Seriously, though, what do you wanna do?”

“I thought you had some ‘special spots’ in mind for today?”

“Well, I mean I do, but I dunno if you’d like them for a post-hangover, post-birthday smoke sesh.”

“That’s dumb. When else would I like them more?”

Chloe paused, taking a sip from her coffee before setting it back on the table. “Good point.”

“So, the illustrious Chloe Price has a few ‘special spots’ in mind and can’t wait to show me them. Sounds like a good day to me.” Rachel grabbed a napkin and wiped a little bit of bacon from her lips. “Ready?”

“Yeah. Let me--” Chloe’s phone buzzed from on the table. Somewhat annoyed, she grabbed the phone from the table and answered the call. “Hello?”

A deep, yet rough voice came through the speaker. “Price, it’s Frank.”

“Frank? The hell’s with the new number?”

“Fuck’s that got to do with anything? Listen, you and Rachel need to meet up with me. Today.”

Chloe groaned. “I keep telling you, I’ll pay you the money, dude. We don’t have to keep meeting up--”

Frank interrupted her, sounding annoyed and impatient. “This isn’t about the fuckin' money you owe me, this is something new.”

Chloe was immediately confused. _Something new? The hell does that mean?_ She hadn’t really had any relations with Frank besides the occasional purchase of weed, why would he call her for some random thing that she didn’t know about?

After a pause, Chloe responded with audible confusion. “What’s this about, Frank?”

“You not just hear me? I said we’ll talk about it when you two meet up with me today.”

“Uh… fine, okay. Where?”

“Junkyard, an hour from now. If I was you two I’d hurry the fuck up.”

“Jeez, alright. Fine, junkyard in an hour.” Chloe ended the call, shoving the phone in her pocket and looking over to Rachel, who in turned seemed completely confused by the one sided conversation she had just heard. Chloe just shrugged. “There goes going somewhere special with you.”

“Don’t worry about it. We got plenty of time to do that later.” Rachel smiled. “Besides, from what I could hear Frank made it sound pretty serious.”

“Yeah, or he’s just being a dick like usual.”

“This definitely doesn’t seem like usual, Chlo.”

The duo slid out of their booths and walked out of the diner, leaving behind some money for the breakfast. As they exited the diner, the sun had hit the top of the sky, where streaks of white painted along a canvas of dark blue. Fishermen were outside of the diner, posting signs and asking passersby to sign petitions. 

“So,” Rachel began, “to the junkyard?”

Chloe nodded, walking alongside Rachel to her truck. “Yup. To the junkyard.”

* * *

Sat atop the rusted yellow school bus with Rachel leaning against her, Chloe felt as if she was in a dream. Of course, the entire time she and Rachel had been together felt like a dream, with parties, concerts, kissing, and just making the best of a shitty life. But, _this_ specific moment, with birds in the trees bordering the almost collapsed metal fence that surrounded the junkyard and wild deer stumbling along the train tracks as they made their way to eat the berries off of bushes, felt the most dreamlike of any of their moments.

She knew this moment wouldn’t last more than the hour Frank had given them to wait, maybe even less if he was as impatient as he sounded on the phone, so she savored it as best as she could. Her hands toyed with Rachel’s blonde strands of hair and her eyes glanced between Rachel’s own mesmerizing orbs of hazel and the train tracks. They didn’t need to say anything to each other, the moment spoke for itself.

As the sound of Frank’s RV grinding against the gravel road near the entrance became apparent, Rachel lifted herself off of Chloe’s shoulder sighed. The loud thud of the RV door slamming signaled to the duo that it was time to talk, and they both hopped off of the bus.

Frank walked up to the two with his typical, constantly scowling face and gruff demeanor. One hand was stuffed in his jean pocket, and his phone was in his other hand. “You two got here early.”

Chloe spoke first. “Yeah, I mean you gave us an hour notice, Frank. Not that hard to drive to the only junkyard we know about in an hour.”

“Uh-huh.” Frank looked around the piles of cars and rusted barrels for a moment before motioning for them to follow him. “RV, come on.”

“Nuh-uh. Tell us what this is about first.” Chloe replied, crossing her arms. Rachel smirked slightly, which in turn made Chloe a little bit more confident.

And yet that confidence got shattered to bits when Frank took two steps closer to the duo and focused his agitated and bloodshot eyes on Chloe’s. “Don’t fuckin’ backtalk me here, alright? This shit’s more important for you guys than me, I can leave here without a fuckin’ care in the world.”

“How’s it more important to us when you won’t even fucking tell us what the problem is?” Chloe shot back, holding her glare to Frank’s eyes.

“You’ll know once you two get in the fuckin’ RV. I ain’t talkin’ out here where people could hear us, got it?”

Before Chloe could reply, Rachel spoke. “It’s okay, Chlo. We’ll hear him out, cool?”

Chloe sighed, then, with Rachel beside her, followed Frank as he trudged to his fortress of solitude. 

Pompidou, who had grown a _lot_ since Chloe last saw, stood outside of the RV, panting and wagging his tale as he saw Frank walk up to him and felt his tiny headpats. Then, he walked inside with Frank, who told the two girls to follow him inside, “Shut the door behind you, I don’t want fleas in my goddamn kitchen,” Frank growled, sitting down at the booth beside his cupboard. Chloe slammed the door shut behind her as Rachel led the way, and the two sat beside each other across from Frank.

Chloe cleared her throat, then spoke up. “What’s this about, Frank? I know I’m a little short on cash but that’s not something you--”

“It’s about someone I met last night.” Frank cut her off, wiping his nose with his forearm. “And that someone’s real fuckin’ worried about you two staying in Arcadia Bay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooooooh, the plot commences!
> 
> Hope this semi-fluffy chapter of Amberprice goodness got a few of you happy. Shit will indeed get real very soon, trust me.
> 
> One thing before I end this off, I really hope you all enjoyed this Chloe perspective chapter. The plan is to shift POV's between the three main characters of the fic. I know it's not time travel goddess Max's perspective this time, but I hope you peeps still thought this was enjoyable in some way. Also, things in my life got cleared up WAY quicker than I'd imagine. Don't expect me to update this quick all the time, but I hope this was a welcome surprise. Finally, thank you all so much for the comments and kudos! I never really thought anyone would read this, but your support on this makes me really eager to continue this! So, please give me feedback in the comments or just drop some of your predictions on where the story is going to go! All of that stuff is welcome wholeheartedly.
> 
> Until the next chapter, see you all later!
> 
> P.S.: I replayed Before the Storm a few days ago and oh my god Pompidou is the cutest thing in the whole world


	3. Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel and Chloe's dreams of finally leaving Arcadia Bay seem like more than just a pipe dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING ON CHAPTERS MOVING FORWARD: Some scenes in this chapter and other chapters are depressing and cover issues like isolation, thoughts of self harm, and self loathing behavior. Please be wary and mindful of what you read if you are not in the mood to read any of that.

If Rachel hadn’t broken the silence with her cough, Chloe was sure that they would have sat there speechless for the next hour.

“Uh… I-uh… who…” Chloe struggled to find the right words for her questions. A thousand thoughts were going through her mind, all revolving around one central question: _Who the fuck would be worried about us, of all people? About me?_

“Spit it out,” Frank said, his arms pressed on his knees and his eyes glancing between the two girls.

Rachel spoke for Chloe’s lack of words. “Frank, what are you even talking about? What does ‘being worried about us staying in Arcadia Bay’ mean?”

Frank spent a moment collecting his thoughts, then he leaned back into his seat, adjusting his baseball cap as he spoke. “It means you two are getting yourselves a little present. All courtesy of some bitch who apparently knows everything there is to know about anyone, including you both.” Frank paused, pursing his lips before continuing. “Surprised you got connections outside of the Bay. Even more surprised those connections are ballsy enough to come up here in my home turf and shit talk me into doing something.”

“That really surprises you?” Rachel asked, her arms crossed against her chest. As Chloe looked over her face, it was clear she was putting on a facade, like she was back on stage at Blackwell acting out a shitty Shakespearean production. “Come on, Frank, you know us better than just two kids who buy weed off of you semi-regularly. We’ve got experience outside of small-town Oregon just like you do.”

“Oh yeah? Do yourself a favor next time a little ‘acquaintance’ of yours comes out here to support you and tell them to not act so fidgety. Makes them look less believable.” Frank, chuckling softly, reached behind him and grabbed a small envelope. “Here.” He slid the envelope across the table of the RV and over to Chloe, who took it and held it in front of her. “That friend of yours told me to give it to you two no questions asked. Now, they say you take that, it’ll be enough for whatever you two are planning.”

The envelope looked… well, it looked like an envelope. A small black outline in the top right corner where a stamp would be laid empty, and the corners looked crumpled, almost as if it had seen some harsh treatment before it got to Frank. And, on the front of the envelope, was a message written in faded black ink: _‘FUCK OFF ARCADIA BAY’_ . Chloe smiled. _Whoever wrote this must have a sense of humor. Either that or hates Arcadia Bay. Both I can seriously get behind._

“Frank,” Chloe began, “why do something like this for us? Seriously, what have you got to gain?”

Frank smiled. “I think you know I ain’t gotta answer that. Let’s just say… let’s say they got me something worth the trouble, yeah? Plus it ain’t much of your business. You got your little note from your friend and I got something I wanted.”

Chloe couldn’t help but let a tiny grin show on her face. Rachel smiled as well, before moving onto another question the two had on their mind since they got in the RV. “This person still in Arcadia?”

“How the fuck should I know? I’m not a god, I don’t see everything.” _And there’s the Frank I know. Irritable with the heart of a puppy._ “From the way they sounded, they didn’t wanna stay here as long as they had to. Must’ve had history with this shitheap of a town if they wanted to leave here as much as they acted like they did.”

Rachel seemed to quiet down after that answer. Then, her and Chloe stood from their spots.

“Take my advice, you two. Don’t talk to that friend of yours again. They ain’t… they don’t really seem like the most _stable_ of people, you got me?” Frank said, sitting in his chair as the two made their way to the RV door.

“We’ll try,” replied Rachel, “but no promises.”

“Whatever.”

The door to the RV shut behind Chloe, and as Rachel led her back to the junkyard, Frank started the engine and drove the mobile home onto the highway again.

* * *

_Hand._

_Hole._

_Scratch._

She stared into the mirror, -- _her_ mirror, not the other’s -- with a scowl, eyes bloodshot from god-knows how many minutes of being open. The reflection stared back at her with cold, yet vindictive eyes. 

_“You seriously think you can get away from this shit tonight?”_ The reflection spoke, her voice almost grating against her eardrums. _“You’ve had far too many second chances this week to make up for everything you’ve done. No. You need a wake up call. You’ve needed a thousand fucking wake up calls.”_

Max couldn’t respond, streams of tears fell down her cheeks but she couldn’t bring herself to sob. The reflection crossed her arms and continued her tirade, an almost comical smile growing on her face. _“What kind of fucking plan was that? Huh? ‘Give Frank Bowers a reason to trust you and make him promise to give a punk who’s already moved on a note? You’re a fucking moron._

_“But hey, that’s fine. The last nine hundred you’s were morons too. That’s why they all ended up all goddamn mangled inside and out one way or the other.”_

Max was barely able to continue staring at her reflection in the mirror, her mind silently begged for her to stop. The reflection’s words echoed in her mind. Every syllable made her hand cramp, her stomach tie into a knot, and left her brain feeling as if it was being probed with a stick.

_“You’ll never, and we mean NEVER, see her again. The fucking least that you deserve is that. You deserve to be locked, trapped in the darkest pit you can think of, you murdering bitch.”_

And the mirror was right. She deserved everything she felt. Everything she did to herself. Every idea that her past selves thought of as punishment she deserved, and then some. Max looked down at her left hand, which, despite the dirt and muck trapped underneath her fingernails, looked unharmed. Clean.

She didn’t deserve to be clean. She deserved red.

_Hole._

_Scratch._

_Dig._

The reflection chuckled. _“You know you want this. Your hand is your death sentence.”_

_Dig._

_Dig._

_Dig._

Max screamed, then punched the mirror as hard as she could. Glass shattered and burst around the bathroom, some shards dug into her knuckles. Instantly, the voices, the begging inside of her mind to dig into her hand, were gone. The reflection in the mirror was gone. The incessant tears were gone. And she was left alone.

She cried. Harder than she had ever cried before. All of her choices, her depleting sanity, her isolation from _everyone_ she had in her life was brought down upon her as if it were a waterfall. The dam broke, her tears flowed, the sound of her hiccoughs and weeping filled the empty home. _Her_ empty home.

* * *

“You gonna open it?” Rachel asked, her arm hung around Chloe’s shoulders.

“I… I don’t know. We still don’t know why the hell _Frank_ , of all people, would give us a letter from some person we don’t know the name of. What if it’s something weird?” Chloe sat on the ground of the small, incomplete junkyard building next to Rachel, looking down at the black ink lettering on its front. “What if it’s fake?”

“Chlo, who fucking cares if it’s fake?” Rachel laughed, then took the envelope from Chloe’s hands. “If it’s fake, then it’s a shitty joke, sure, but it doesn’t do anything bad to us, right?”

“Ugh,” Chloe groaned, then looked over to Rachel, “it still doesn’t make any sense. Frank knows we aren’t--”

“You’re being a bitch right now, Chlo. Seriously, we have literally _nothing_ to lose if we check what’s inside.”

“I’m not being a bitch, I’m being cautious, that’s two totally different things. Bitches don’t agree to meet up with a drug dealer that they aren’t that cool with.”

“Okay, fine you’re not a bitch. But you’re thinking about this too much.” Rachel’s fingers slid over the sealed part of the envelope, “Fuck it, I’m doing it.” In an instant, her index finger slid under the opening on the side and tore the white paper open.

Chloe really didn’t know what she was expecting from an envelope. But if it came from Frank, she always feared it could be some asshole reminder to pay him for the weed they said they would pay for. In a way she felt slightly disappointed when Rachel opened it and they saw just a bland sheet of notebook paper folded in half. It wasn’t bad or anything, but she wanted a little excitement from all that guessing and theorizing.

Rachel grabbed the paper from the envelope and unfolded it, revealing a note written in shaky, yet legible cursive. As Rachel read silently, her eyes widened. Her mouth stayed agape and her fingers gripped the edge of the paper tight.

“Well? What’s it say?” Chloe asked tentatively.

“You… you read it.” Rachel said slowly, passing the note over to Chloe.

As Chloe took the paper from Rachel’s hands, her mind drew a blank. Rachel hadn’t had such an obvious look of ‘holy fucking shit’ since she found out about her father, and even then it wasn’t as obvious to Chloe then as it was now. But as she looked down and read the words scrawled on the folded notebook paper, she understood the expression of disbelief. 

She cleared her throat and read the note aloud. “‘If you’re reading this, Frank must have either died and you looted his RV or you’re the people who need this. I hope it’s the latter. I’m sure you are confused as to who this is, but at this point it doesn’t matter,’ bull-fucking-shit. ‘I’ve been able to convince myself this is the right thing to do. I always knew it was the right thing, I just needed the right motivation to act on it. I’ll cut to the chase: you deserve to have a happy life. And you need money more than I ever will.’ We don’t even know you, asshole, but okay. ‘Whenever you can, check your bank account if this is who I think it is…’” Chloe stopped. Her eyes rereading the final sentence over and over again. “What the fuck…?”

“Chloe, who the hell would even write this? How do they know who we are? How do they know you even have a bank account?” Rachel asked, looking up to Chloe from her spot on the ground.

“I-I don’t know. I… Rach, who… I don’t…” Chloe struggled to find the right words. _Why would someone give a shit about two random teens in the middle of nowhere? Why the fuck would they know I have a bank account?_

“Keep reading -- I didn’t get too far into it.”

Chloe cleared her throat, her voice shaky with nervousness. “‘Use whatever you find in there to make the most of your life, don’t look back. Keep looking forward. Sincerely, a friend.’” There was a minute of pause before Chloe spoke up again. “Rach, I think --”

“We should go check your account. Like right now.”

* * *

Trees. Green. The smell of pine cones and leaves rushed through her nostrils as she frantically sprinted through for forest. Her arms swiping away the incoming branches as each slam of her converses crunched against the dried leaves on the ground. Her breathing was short and intense as she panted through each lunge her legs made. 

_“Get the FUCK back here, Caulfield!”_ Her past self’s voice, distant behind her, boomed through the trees. _“You’re not getting away from me that goddamn easy!”_

Max kept running. Her eyes burned as the cold winds blew against her. _Get to somewhere safe. Get to where she can’t find me. Get to where they can’t see me._

_“You’re sooooo fucking pathetic here! Give up, you can’t hide from me forever!”_

Her breaths turned into almost panicked shouts. Her entire body shook as she ran. Each tree looked the same. Each bird and deer that watched her fly past them bored their eyes into her skull. The leaves felt as if they had grown eyes and were watching her, laughing at how pointless it was to struggle against the situation she was in. But she had to run. She had to fight everything. It was her only choice. 

When she turned a corner, she was in new scenery. It was nighttime, a long road of old asphalt and blinking street lights lay before her. But she had to keep running. She couldn’t let her other selves destroy her.

As she sprinted, the lights began to turn into towers. All of her former selves that she had left behind in time stood in front of each post, each bearing the scars and wounds that she had caused. They stared at her, anger plastered onto their faces and pain present in their eyes. Every single one of them was hurt by Max, one way or the other. But she had to keep running, to not get caught begging for forgiveness.

Houses zoomed past her as she ran, all of them destroyed by her pure greed. Her pure selfishness to keep one person alive and happy killed hundreds, if not thousands. Her old home, gone. Her parents’ destroyed car burned in her yard as she made her way further down the road.

And then, she reached it. A wall of chipped blue and white paint, with a window looking out into the driveway and a rusted truck parked outside. _Chloe’s house… I’ll be safe in Chloe’s house._ She slammed into the front door, and opened it as quick as possible, locking herself inside to keep her past selves out.

The house was eerily silent, and equally dark. The kitchen where Joyce would make pancakes and the dining room where the fireplace sat were shrouded in a layer of fog. Everywhere she stepped felt like she was dipping her feet into a pool of cold water. But it was safer inside than it was outside.

The stairs up to Chloe’s room were all but rotted through the ground. Each time Max tentatively placed her foot on each step felt like she was testing the limits of the wood’s strength. And when she had finally made it up to the top, a wave of relief washed over her, as if she had just climbed a dangerous mountain.

The doors to every room but Chloe’s were boarded up. Plywood was nailed to the master bedroom with graffiti covering every inch. The bathroom door was nailed shut by two planks of wood, both of which looked almost brand new. Chloe’s room, on the other hand, looked almost angelic and inviting. A warm glow of light emanated from the entrance, and her mind was almost shouting at her to walk inside.

As she pushed the door open, she saw a shadow standing in the middle of an almost fully lit room. Punk rock was playing faintly from the hi-fi beside Chloe’s desk and the shadow was softly bumping her head to it. “Chloe?” Max called out, her voice hoarse and wary. “Is that you?”

The shadow stopped moving after Max spoke, and the music stopped. Light began to fade from the corners of the room, instead only surrounding the shadow in the center. “Why did you leave, Max?” Chloe’s voice echoed through the room.

Light began to encircle the shadow. Chloe’s signature blue hair became more visible. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. Please… believe me I wish I cou--”

“Why did you leave me?” Chloe’s voice sounded demanding, angry. Her blue beanie was draped over her strands of blue hair. “Why?”

As her face became visible, Max could only collapse onto the floor. Chloe’s face looked pale, a bullet hole dotted her forehead. Blood stained her nose and eyes. It was what she looked like minutes after Jefferson had shot her. “Why did you leave me, Max? Why?

“Why?

“Why?

_“WHY?!”_

Max jolted awake from her mattress on the floor. Her eyes were wet, and she felt dried streams of tears on her cheeks. Chloe’s face was ingrained into her mind, the lifeless expression she had as she fell back onto Rachel’s unmarked grave unable to leave her conscience. 

* * *

Driving down Arcadia Bay’s lone highway felt more intense than it should have to Chloe. She was confused but ecstatic at the same time. The mystery behind the letter they had nabbed from Frank was shockingly more exciting than they had thought. And, to top it all off, the great Rachel Amber, whose poker face is borderline impossible to break, was left gawking at the possibility of money to leave Arcadia Bay behind. The day couldn’t get any better.

Of course, Chloe was just as excited as her blonde haired partner, probably moreso. Leaving Arcadia Bay? Never having to listen to another bullshit lecture from step-ass that was filled with so much sexism and degrading shit that it made her feel like nothing in her own house? It was like an elephant was lifted off of her stomach and she could finally breathe just as she did before he barged into her life. And that feeling of euphoria, of complete content, was the best possible drug anyone could have ever dreamt of.

The truck ride was filled with incomplete thoughts and conversations that all circled back to the point of ‘we fucking made it’. Rachel had an almost comically wide smile across her face as she talked about finally going on the road trip she and Chloe had sworn years ago to take. Chloe listened with a grin to every single sentence, responding with quips and jokes but sharing the same sentiment.

As she pulled into the parking lot of a small gas station with an ATM outside, Chloe felt the butterflies in her stomach become more apparent. Anxiety filled her mind, with questions on if the letter was legitimate or not completely taking over all coherent thought. “I’ll check it really quick, but Rach if this isn’t real…”

“Don’t even try to say it’s not.” Rachel immediately replied. “This is our chance, Chloe. And if it’s fake? We can just save up a little more money and leave later. Okay?”

Chloe nodded, hopping out of the truck and walking over to the ATM. Each step she took felt like a small leap towards the unknown, towards a foggy cloud filled with driving and being with… well, being with Rachel Amber. But they were leaps she was willing to take. A chance at bliss isn’t something she could pass up.

And then, she read her account balance, and every single thought she had flew out of the window like paper being thrown out of a moving car.

She walked back to the truck, her face blank. As she opened the door and sat in her seat, Rachel waiting in suspense, nothing could come to her mind to say. So she sat, giving a thousand yard stare to the gas station.

“Well? Chloe, how much was in there?” Rachel asked.

“Uh… it-it’s uh…” Chloe stammered. Rachel sighed, then asked again.

“How much, Chlo? You can tell me, seriously.”

“There’s uh… thirty.”

Rachel’s expression turned into denial. “Thirty dollars?”

“No… thirty grand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roller coaster of emotions for me to write and read. Lots of mysteries and behaviors left soon to be explained. But don't worry, things will definitely get better in this fic. Just not now.
> 
> I have a tumblr now! I literally have no idea how to use it or what to use it for, but I have one and by god I'm going to promote it: https://youwritegoodcursive.tumblr.com/ . I'll post some updates on how chapters are going, what's going on in my personal life, and just general things that interest me. Don't expect me to be too active on there though, I'm not the most tumblr savvy individual!
> 
> Also, start expecting new chapters every other week. I may not be able to always hit that goal, but this way I have more time to pump out huge chapters with tons of content for you peeps. The support on this thing has been literally incredible! I never thought anyone would care about this tiny fic with a lot of sad vibes, but knowing people on here enjoy what I write is something that makes me super motivated and excited to write more!
> 
> Love you all!


	4. Leave It Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel and Chloe are finally able to leave, yet some things are too hard to let go of.

Rachel could have predicted a lot of things that day.

She could have predicted Chloe being hungover when they woke up, anyone would have been with six bottles of beer and half a bottle of tequila in them. She could have predicted them rehashing their dreams of leaving Arcadia Bay for the open road considering they had that talk almost every other day. She could have predicted Chloe trying to continue the whole ‘it’s not your birthday anymore but we should all still party like it is’ vibe by taking her to a ‘special’ spot. She could have even predicted Frank calling Chloe out of nowhere in the diner.

But she couldn’t have predicted anything that came after. She couldn’t have predicted the meeting with Frank in American Rust. She couldn’t have predicted a letter from some unknown ‘friend’ of Chloe’s. And she couldn’t have predicted the two having a shot at actually ditching the shithole of a town that was Arcadia Bay. So when Chloe floored the truck down the long stretch of road to the nearest ATM, it felt like fate or some creepy god’s plan for the two of them was coming to fruition. A rendezvous with destiny. 

But even then, the day kept escalating in unpredictability. Which, given all the shit that happened not even hours before they ended up parking in a gas station lot, was ironically predictable.

Rachel watched with incredible anticipation as Chloe exited the truck. Each step she took felt like a huge drum was being beaten in her head. Her heart pounded with trepidation. There really weren't enough words to describe her feelings at that moment. Fear? Anticipation? Intrigue? Anxiety? Excitement? All of these applied, and yet didn’t apply at the same time. It was such a foreign and alien feeling that flowed through her body like a crashing wave that she couldn’t process it.

And then, Chloe reached the ATM. Time seemed like it stopped. The entire world blurred except for Chloe. She waited, trying to spot _anything_ to give away what Chloe was seeing. And then, just as quick as Chloe had gotten to the machine, she headed back towards the truck, her face looking as if it was chiseled in stone. The only thing that looked somewhat off were her eyes. The vibrant blue ocean Rachel loved to stare into said a thousand things at once, but the only thing she could really make out was ‘holy fucking shit’.

As Chloe slid back into the truck, slammed the door shut and gripped the peeling steering wheel with her pale hands, she refused to move. Rachel watched as Chloe stared into nothing for at least a minute before asking the million dollar question. “Well? Chloe, how much was in there?”

Then Rachel saw Chloe become flustered, stammering and struggling to form a coherent sentence. She looked between Rachel and the ATM, as if it were the holy grail of money boxes. “How much, Chlo? You can tell me, seriously.”

Chloe replied with an almost comforting tone, yet her voice sounded so shaky, almost as if she was about to cry. “It’s uh… thirty.”

Rachel’s heart dropped. Thirty could mean a lot of things. Thirty dollars? Thirty cents? Thirty grand? But it was the tone that Chloe had that made her feel so worried. If it was as low as thirty dollars, they’d lost everything. Everything they had saved since Chloe got kicked out of Blackwell. Every tip Rachel got as a barista, every dollar Chloe had earned working minimum wage at random fast food shops, gone.

So when Chloe clarified it was the latter option, that the account had over thirty thousand dollars in it seemingly out of nowhere, she too became overwhelmed with the emotions Chloe was feeling at that moment.

“Holy shit, Chloe.”

* * *

It took a trip back to the junkyard to process the ecstasy that they both had. But once they did, all they could do was jump with joy for the next hour.

Rachel couldn’t stop talking about the plans for the trip they were about to take, about how long they would be on the road, and just being with the blue-haired punk queen -- no, punk _goddess_ \-- of Arcadia Bay. Her pipe dreams became an immediate reality. The idea of barrelling down the open road in Chloe’s junker, maybe even an RV if they were up for it, seemed so incredibly kick-ass that she couldn’t stop talking about it.

Chloe felt the same affection towards travelling down the countryside at cruising speed. She told Rachel of a million different realities she wanted to explore, ideas that she wanted to chase, people she was excited to meet. All courtesy of some nameless benefactor who decided to drop a charitable donation to the ‘Eat Shit Arcadia Bay’ fund and help two madly in love girls out of the most boring and rage inducing town in Oregon. But, Chloe also seemed apprehensive, and Rachel noticed it as soon as she started talking about the places to go to first. It was pretty obvious why, and also pretty obvious where she wanted their first stop to be.

“You wanna go to Seattle, don’t you?” Rachel asked, sitting beside her on the old wooden table in their unfinished room at the edge of American Rust. “You wanna talk to her?”

“Yeah… I really do, Rach. Like, really badly.” Chloe answered, her voice sounding soft and almost ashamed.

Rachel really couldn’t blame her. If she had lost her best friend at the most devastating point in her life, she would have wanted to confront them as well, no matter how long it took or how hard it would be. But something about the idea made her feel left out, which was stupid. She wasn’t being left behind or forgotten by Chloe, but she still felt as if she was being dragged along like an anchor through her life. _No, fuck that. Chloe cares about me, why the hell would she just abandon me out of nowhere? She just needs to resolve something, and I need to be there to walk her through it._

So she smiled. She wholeheartedly supported Chloe’s decision. “Soon as we figure out how we’re gonna get across the country, we’re going straight to Seattle.”

“What do you mean? My truck’s fine… ish.” Chloe responded.

“Uh, you really think it’ll last long when we're on an endless road trip across one of the biggest countries in the world? That’s pretty wishful thinking.”

Chloe shrugged, “No, but -- actually, yeah. Fuck it, new wheels.” Rachel laughed, and Chloe let a grin loose before asking a second question. “Well, what do you think we should get? We’ve got a big budget now. Well, big _ger_.”

“I dunno, actually,” Rachel replied, “I was thinking of an RV since we’d literally be going all the way around the country until we settled down someplace.” Chloe raised her brow for a moment. “What, you don’t like it?”

“I do, actually. Just surprised _you_ do specifically.”

“Oh come on, seriously? You think I’m not a fan of RV’s?” Rachel said.

“Kinda, yeah. Thought you’d be too ‘Rachel Amber - Popular Model and Aspiring Blackwell Honor Student’ to like ‘em.”

“Shut up, you ass.” Rachel chuckled, nudging Chloe with her elbow before hopping off of the table.

“Whatever you say, oh-so-fancy Rachel of the house Amber.” Chloe replied, emphasizing her voice with a terrible English accent and hopping off of the table as well. She wrapped an arm around Rachel’s shoulders and led her back to her truck. “I know just the guy to talk to when it comes to RV’s.”

“Is it someone I'd know?” Rachel asked.

“Nah, don't think so. It's an old friend of mine. His dad’s a car salesman, so he could hook us up with one.”

“Hella awesome.” Rachel sighed, a smile formed on her lips.

“Hella awesome indeed.” Chloe responded.

* * *

The ‘RV’ they got wasn’t really what one would typically call an RV. It was more like a van, except longer and more spacious with a couch and a shelf in the back. But, needless to say, it was perfect for them. Roomy enough for at least four people, fixed up enough to last them a lifetime, and cool enough for them to be proud of driving it around. Black and white wasn’t the coolest color combo, but the only other choice was brown and gold, which felt more like something an old couple would buy. Besides, Rachel knew the two would redo it eventually. Maybe even turn it into the Mystery Machine if they got bold enough. And, as an added bonus, they only spend seven thousand dollars of their money, leaving _plenty_ of room for future expenditures on weed and Scooby Snacks.

Rachel had already packed most of the things she wanted to bring with her weeks prior, just in case something like this were to happen to them. It felt almost routine for her to keep a bag ready for her stuff in case of a future trip, ever since her dad was revealed to be Captain Dickwad of Assholeville. She’d bag up all of her clothes into one little suitcase, then unpack it once a job fell through or a source of income became unattainable for either her or Chloe. But now that cycle was over. The routine of losing faith in her dreams became such a stupid concept now that said dreams were literally _right there_ , waiting to be explored.

It was almost shocking how quick things began to move for them. Over the course of four days, the two had celebrated Rachel’s birthday, been given more money than the two had ever seen in their lives, and had bought a tiny home fit for months of movie nights and hotboxes. 

But there was still the problem of how to break the news to Joyce. Chloe had already been planning her leave since the two had gotten back together months prior. She wrote drafts of goodbye letters she’d eventually give to her, only to wad them up and throw them in the trash. Rachel couldn’t blame her, but she didn’t see the point in wasting paper.

“You’re gonna have to tell her in person,” she said, laying next to Chloe on the wooden fold out bed, “that’s probably the only way you can really tell them how you feel.”

Chloe loosely held the half-burnt cigarette between her fingers, her hand laying on her stomach as she stared at the ceiling. “I know.”

“Listen,” Rachel continued,” I know it’s hard now to figure out what to say, but we were going to have to do this eventually anyways. Even if we didn’t have a load of cash to spare, we’d still be saving up to leave someday.”

“Rach. I know,” Chloe paused for a moment, taking a drag from her cigarette before speaking again. “I just… it’s not easy, you know? Like -- shit I don’t know. How do you tell your mom you're actually going to leave forever? An-and I know the answer might be more obvious than a neon sign to you, but I’m _not_ you, Rach. I’m not like the all-knowing, all-sociable goddess you are. I’m just… I’m _me_.”

“I never said you weren’t you, Chlo,” Rachel replied. “But you hella underestimate yourself. You think that you always aren’t up to par when you can’t figure out stuff like this as fast as me, but that’s bullshit. You _are_ better than you think. Seriously.” Rachel motioned for Chloe to pass her the cigarette, to which she obliged. She took a small puff, then passed it back before continuing. “It sucks that you need to tell her in person, I totally get that. But how else would you do it? Writing it in a letter hasn’t really gotten you very far.”

Rachel turned to face Chloe’s body, draping an arm over her stomach and rubbing Chloe’s hand with her thumb. “I’ll be right there with you, okay? You’ve got this. You’ll know exactly what to say and how to say it when we get to that point.”

Chloe tilted her head so she could look into Rachel’s eyes. A faint, yet visible smile formed at the corners of her mouth. “You’re too good for me.”

“Oh contraire, I think I’m just as good as you.”

* * *

Rachel watched as Chloe apprehensively knocked at the peeling white door of her home. Unusually cold wind for July rushed through the streets. The sun had casted a golden aura over the clear evening sky. It almost felt like a picturesque setting for a painting, a setting that some poor painter would spend hours crafting only to be forced to auction it to some cheap retailer for pennies. The mood was tense. Chloe twiddled her thumbs and bit the bottom of her lip waiting for Joyce to answer the door for what seemed like hours. But they both knew that this was the way to do this, face to face confrontation would at least give off the vibe that they both _desperately_ wanted to leave and actually _live_.

Soon, the door creaked open, and Joyce emerged from the entryway of the house with a smile. “Chloe!” She exclaimed, walking over and hugging Chloe, who begrudgingly returned the favor. “Aw, I’m so glad you’re back!”

“Thanks mom, I-uh, appreciate it.” Chloe responded, letting go of Joyce and backing away.

“ And Rachel!” Joyce smirked, looking over to Rachel and holding her hands on her hips. “How was your birthday weekend? Y’all two didn’t get into too much trouble, right?”

Rachel smiled, then shook her head. “No, Joyce. We had a blast though. Seriously, your daughter is a hell of a party planner.”

“She gets that from William, mostly. He and her always liked surprise parties.” She paused, then opened the door wide. “Come on in! I haven’t got around to makin’ dinner yet but maybe I can find something to drink to tide you over.”

Chloe sighed, then looked over to Joyce. “Mom, we need to talk. Like, really badly.”

Joyce paused, then narrowed her eyes. “Is something going on I should know about?”

“Not-no, not in that way. Just… please? Can we talk, us to you?”

Joyce raised her eyebrows before nodding.“Guessin’ this has something to do with you not having that truck anymore?”

“Yeah… it’s pretty related to that.”

Joyce smiled, then made her way inside, with both Chloe and Rachel following her closely.

Rachel had been inside of the Price household plenty of times in her life. The entire vibe of each room was cozy and personable, as if every single tiny stain on the carpet or creak in the wood had a story on its own. Pictures lined the hallway leading to the living room, mostly of Joyce and David. The ones of Chloe seemed to be all from before William had died. Chloe rocked some long, undyed hair, her face didn’t scream ‘I’ve been through some shit, don’t fuck with me’ yet, and most of all, her wardrobe was all cute sweaters with animals imprinted on the front. 

This time felt much different than every other time prior. The house felt colder, more foreboding. Maybe it was because of why they were there or what they had to tell Joyce, but Rachel could swear the house had it’s own emotions. She could feel some sort of sadness emanating from each wooden board that she stepped on, and the paneling that lined the bottom floor almost trembled as Chloe walked past it. Needless to say, it was an experience she wasn’t expecting.

Rachel sat next to Chloe and across from Joyce at the dining table. She rubbed Chloe’s palm slowly, trying to ease her mind as she began to speak.

“Mom I, uh… we, me and Rachel, we um… we decided on leaving.” Chloe said, her voice firm but cautious.

Joyce’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh.”

“Yeah. We-we wanted to tell you before we left.” Chloe paused for a moment, before letting out a long sigh and continuing. “Look, it’s not a secret that, you know, I don’t like living under the same roof as a guy that doesn’t give a fuck about me.”

“Chloe--”

“No, mom. Listen. I need to get this shit off of my chest before I leave, otherwise you won’t understand why.” Chloe continued, speaking more confidently than before. “You gotta understand that me being around David is the most toxic shit that goes on in my life right now. He does -- he does a _lot_ of stuff, okay? And every time I try to tell you about it, I feel like you don’t understand it. So I’m not gonna try again. But people like him aren’t people I want in my life, okay? And I don’t want Arcadia Bay to be where I’m stuck in until the end of time. You know the amount of bad memories this place has for me, how much shit I’ve gone through. I don’t wanna be reminded of every time something fucked up happened to me. I just wanna _move on_.

“So me and Rachel are leaving. We don’t plan on turning back. We just… we wanna move forward, okay? And we’ve thought about it for _such_ a long time. Years. We know this is the best way. We’re leaving regardless. But I wanted to tell you why.”

Chloe finished by rubbing her cheeks with her free hand. Joyce took a few seconds and processed what she had said before speaking. “Chloe… you know I want the best for you…”

“Then just say you support us. Say ‘yes Chloe, do what makes you happy’, don’t try and talk me out of it.”

“I’m not. I just -- I want to make sure you know what you’re doing, okay? I’m your mother, I want you to be safe, most of all. If you… feel that leaving here is the road you should take, then I won’t stop you.”

“Then that’s it. That’s all I wanted to say, okay? I wanna pack some stuff and we’re gone.” Chloe stood from her seat, and Rachel followed. “I… thanks for understanding, mom.”

It didn’t take long for them to pack. It took even less time for them to be at the door.

Joyce stood at the doorway with the two. “Chloe,” she began, tears threatening to fall from her eyes, “you’ll always have a home here, you know that right?”

Chloe nodded. “I’ll see you around, mom.”

They didn’t look back.

* * *

“You thought of what you’re gonna say yet?” Rachel asked before taking a long drag from the joint in between her fingers.

“Yeah. For a while actually.” Chloe responded, sitting up on the bed inside of the van and leaning against Rachel laying beside her.

“Lemme hear it, then.”

“Little personal don’t you think?” Chloe took the joint from Rachel’s fingers and held it just above her lap.

“I just wanna know what’s going on in that oh-so-loveable Chloe Price head.”

“Well… I dunno. I just, I don’t think you would wanna hear what I want to say to her.”

“I think I can handle the emotions you have for the ex-best friend that left you out in the dust for, what? Four years?”

“Almost five.”

“Exactly,” Rachel scooted closer to Chloe, laying an arm over her waist and looking up at her eyes. “If you don’t want me to hear it, that’s totally cool, babe. No problem.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Well, here. We’ll be out of Oregon by tomorrow morning, right? Then Seattle’s only an hour or so past that. You’ve got all the time in the world to tell or not tell me what you want to say to her.”

There was a long pause. The window across from the bed they laid on acted as the barrier between them and a world of darkness. Stars peaked over redwood trees in the distance, and the full moon beamed a pale white light against Chloe’s eyes. 

“I want to know _why._ Not whatever shitty excuse she has, or whatever way she wants to word her not trying to give a shit about me for half a decade. I want the real reason behind it.” Chloe chuckled, then continued. “And you know the real funny thing, Rach?”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it. I don’t know if I’ll be able to take the truth.”

“Then we’ll take it together, okay? I’m with you until the end of time, don’t forget about that.”

“Yeah. End of time.”

* * *

Seattle looked almost mystical in comparison to Arcadia Bay.

Rachel expected the town she met Chloe in to pale in comparison to one of the most influential cities on the west coast, but being there in person? Seeing tens of skyscrapers line the downtown metro area and the Space Needle tower over entire business blocks? That was something she’d never really thought about.

She had so many ideas for her and Chloe. A trip to the top of the Space Needle in July here, a stroll through Discovery Park there, maybe even taking a camping trip to Mount Rainier in August and just _be together._

But they couldn’t do any of that now. They weren’t even supposed to be here for more than a day. Chloe was just going to find her childhood friend-turned-disappearing act, talk to her, then they would actually start their trip across the country.

They started by heading to the neighborhood Chloe had said she lived in. And, surprisingly, it looked like shit. Houses looked older than the two of them combined, tarps were strewn over rooftops and cars in driveways were rusted or missing wheels.

As they drove down the road, they saw a figure walking down the sidewalk, back facing the van. She was short, with messy brunette hair and clothes that looked so dirty and worn they could have been mistaken for washcloths that had been sewn together. But as they drove past her, Chloe’s eyes widened. She immediately parked on the side of the road, jumping out of the car without skipping a beat. Rachel followed suit, jogging to keep up with her.

When they stepped in front of the woman, she didn’t look any better. Her face was pale, with the freckles that covered it being the only thing looking somewhat natural. Her eyes and cheeks were sunken in slightly, and small cuts lined her chin and lips. But her eyes were the most haunting feature she had -- bloodshot and colored in a shade of blue that only spoke one word: _pain_. 

Chloe couldn’t believe her eyes. “Max?”

The girl looked up at both of them, completely out of it.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My internet went out twice while writing this chapter, :(. Lost a lot of progress and had to rewrite certain bits.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed this! I plan on rewriting a lot of things that I found bland or not explored upon enough in earlier chapters once I hit a certain stopping point in the story. But for now, please send me all the feedback you can about how to improve this. I realize this chapter is pretty bland, but trust me when I say it'll get more interesting next chapter and beyond.
> 
> I plan on making a small Soundcloud playlist of a bunch of songs I liked to listen to while making this. If you guys want to see that here, let me know. Also, I have a tumblr! I sporadically post updates there, if you're interested. https://youwritegoodcursive.tumblr.com/
> 
> Next chapter should be out the week after next, so stay tuned.


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